|Secondary Role||Demolitions Expert|
|Character Sheet||[Monkey Wrench]|
Paraplegic Elven Rigger hunting down the bookie who stole his legs (The use of them anyway). Former chop shop mechanic and wannabe racer.
- 30k/15k Dead or Alive Bounty placed on head by "Snapping Turtles" Gang.
- Hunting bookie & street doc that made him into a paraplegic.
- Ran away from home less than a decade ago. Mother still actively looking for him.
- Depends on who's asking... - Bad Rep & Wanted. Known to have messed up a job and killed the entire crew (Snapping Turtles gangers) in the process.
- Ofcourse it's good, I made it. - Gluten (wheat) Allergy. Refuses to eat anything he didn't cook or pick out himself.
- Walking Encyclopedia - Photographic Memory, Speed reading.
- Pedal to the Metal - Chaser, Gearhead, Steely Eyed Wheelman.
Growing up SINless in Auburn didn't give Akira a wealth of options in how to get by, or even entertain himself. Akira's father immediately distanced himself from both mother and child when the intention of keeping Akira off the grid became clear. Constantly moving around Washington to keep suspicions low, Akira became both very good at making friends and quickly picked up a floating reputation of being "That Little Shit" that always seemed to sink in whenever he got settled somewhere. Boosting crappy little Americars and joy-riding became the hobby of choice as he started to come into his own. Eventually he started taking the cars to chop shops and eyeing more challenging marks. Although what really caught his attention was deconstructing the vehicles rather than simply stealing them. In a rebellious phase, Akira ran away from home and joined up with a chop shop in Puyallup under the name "Monkey Wrench". Monkey Wrench turned out to be too much of a mouthful, and more often than not he was simply "Wrench". That is, until he moved to Seattle, trying to put more distance between himself and his mother (who was still searching for him) and his moniker shifted to "Monkey" as a result. By the time he stumbled across Scrappy's Chop Shop and convinced her to put her in his employ, his name had been shortened yet again to "Monk". Trying out shaving his head probably didn't help his case either. As if Monk wasn't short enough, customers started referring to him as "M", until a Scottish ork started showing up regularly, who had a habit of mumbling "mmmmm" to herself while trying to figure out what she wanted to say. To prevent being confused out of his wits, Monk convinced his employer to revive his previous nickname which finally stuck.
A combination of carefully placed bets, and being frugal with his earnings allowed Monk to get his very own control rig, with the plans of becoming a racer himself. With access to a chop shop he figured he could cobble together a proper racing hunk of junk eventually. Most of his free time consisted of research, practicing driving, and attending races (either to bet or to watch). During one of his practice runs, Monk came across a stumpy troll packed into a Jackrabbit that looked like it was liable to fall apart any second. Despite it's shabby exterior, the car drove like a dream and that troll took a line in it that, quite frankly, just didn't make any sense for the car he was in. Monk coaxed the troll, by the name of Vekin, to sign up for an upcoming race, and then dropped his entire savings on the unknown underdog.
When Vekin blew the competition out of the water, outrage exploded as effectively no one had ever heard of him before, and the only person with a substantial bet on him was a smugly grinning Monk. In the most fair and honorable investigation, Foul Play was concluded to be the cause. Vekin was summarily executed (this may have taken place before the verdict, but who's counting) and then Monk was charged a cheater's fee, which equals the bet placed. Also the money he used to place the bet was considered forfeit as the 2nd place driver was declared the new winner.
Unfortunately Monk didn't have that kind of scratch. He and his bookie go way back though, so Monk was offered a one-time deal. Do one not-so-simple job and they'll call the debt paid. Just give a group of gangers a ride, maybe lay down some cover fire if need be, and make sure they get to their extraction with their package intact. Mack, the bookie, would even supply a sat-linked ride and an RCC for the run so Monk wouldn't have to be onsite for the affair. All things considered, pretty sweet deal that Monk took with only the slighest hesitation.
Needless to say, Mack double-crossed him. While Monk was hitting an on-ramp at break-neck speeds, Mack ripped out the datacable from the RCC and immediately tased Monk. By the time Monk came to he was in an alleyway, with fresh stitches on his lower back and he could no longer move his legs. After dragging himself to a nearby dive, Monk managed to get in touch with Scrappy, who nearly disconnected the second she realized it was him. After some fervent apologizing for disappearing unannounced, he was able to get the scoop on what happened. Apparently word has gotten around that Monk botched his first ever job, and got a whole crew of 'Snapping Turtle' gangers killed in the process. Now there's a bounty on his head for a cool 30k nuyen if he's brought in alive. 15k if he's already dead. Scrappy offered to help him get off the streets, given his decreased motor function, but pointed out she isn't going to stick her next out for him and that he ought to lay low.
Monk didn't particularly like the idea of being paralyzed for the rest of his life, so he set his sights on tracking down Mack as well as the street doc that was used so that he can both clear his own name and reverse the procedure that took place. He dyed his previously white hair to Auburn, in homage to his home town, changed his whole style and even started wearing sunglasses for awhile until it felt too awkward. Calling in a few favors, Monk was able to get his hands on an Ares brand Duelist Drone, which he used to work at Scrappy's Shop in his stead until he was able to get together enough gear to begin a (hopefully) temporary career as a shadowrunner.
Appearance and Style
- Meat: Grey skin. Short, as far as elves go, and wheelchair-bound. Shoulder-length Auburn hair, undercut and generally worn down. Hazel eyes. Wears a plain black skin-tight t-shirt, overly large silver coat with a fur-lined hood, grey slacks and black dress shoes.
- Astral form: N/A
- Astral signature: N/A
- Matrix persona: Old man about the size of a human with dwarven features wearing a housecoat and slippers, sitting in a recliner reading a book and drinking tea.
- Styles and symbols known for: Clothing - A dingy black & red "Killing Floor" t-shirt that is missing one of it's sleeves, a pair of once-silver overalls that stained nearly black in most places, and a pair of steel-toe boots. Hairstyle - Braided into a ponytail, or braided and tied up into a bun. Logo - Cartoon monkey with an oversized wrench riding a Harley and smoking a cigar.
Laid-back. Shy, slow to speak around new people. Hesitant to trust his own instincts due to overly trusting nature. Patient and tolerant (little to no patience for overt stupidity and willing ignorance). Quick to anger, slow to express it. Comedian around people he's comfortable with. Almost uncontrollably sarcastic. Prefers being jumped in than not, these days. Incredibly serious when he feels the moment calls for it, what prompts this varies wildly.
The driving motivations of your character. Why do you run? What are your long term goals?
- Hunting Mack, the bookie that set him and paralyzed him from the waist down.
- Regain use of his legs.
- Everything about drones. Finding new ones. Fixing them, breaking them, jumping into them, modifying them and trying to design his own.
- Racing, and going fast in high stake situations.
- Long-Term: Become an official race-car driver. Failing that, dominate the underground race scene all over America.